Page 39 of A Shield Maiden's Earl
“What of Freya?” I asked, concerned about her above all else. “Is she safe? Have you been in contact with her via the flames? Because I could have sworn you told me she was coming when ’tis the last thing she should do.”
“I have seen her via the flames, and she’s safe.” She shook her head. “And no, I said nothing of the sort, for ’twould be unwise given your location. You have been in and out of fevers, so mayhap ’twas your imagination.”
Mayhap. But something about the look in her eyes told me otherwise. Yet given my circumstances and her healing me back to good health, I thought it unwise to accuse her of such.
“How did I get here?” I wondered. “The last I recall, I lay on the forest floor looking up at Freya through the trees, then all went dark.” Glancing around the room, I frowned. “’Tis clear I’m not welcome, or mayhap I imagined a man’s voice as I did your assurance that Freya was on her way.”
“Thatyou did not imagine,” she said. “’Twas Declan Mackay, son of Chieftain Lachlann Mackay, and he can be…difficult.”
While I had not heard of Lachlann, the other name sounded familiar.
“Declan Mackay,” I murmured, trying to place where I had heard his name before. “’Tis a name that reached our shores, is it not?”
“’Tis,” she granted. “He’s as well known for his battle prowess in these parts as you are back home.”
That’s when it hit me, and I raised my eyebrows at her. “Surelynot.” I frowned, hoping I was wrong because if so, my near-death experience was just a holdover to a far worse demise. “NottheDeclan MacKay, renowned for being King Alexander’s most prized warrior? Declan Mackay, ‘The Ruthless’? The man who’s known to have single-handedly driven our people from these shores? Who has slain countless Norse?”
“Ja.” She shook her head and looked skyward. “Though I would say the tales are taller than the truth, much like those told of you and mayhap even me and my sisters.”
“If ’twas truly his voice I heard on my deathbed, I would say the tales not as tall as you think them,” I countered, hardly believing I was in Declan Mackay’s castle when his hatred of the Norse, whether Norwegian or otherwise, was renowned. Yet here Astrid sat acting as though he didn’t threaten her in the least.
“And why am I here again?” I asked tentatively, wishing I had more mobility because again, my fate at Declan’s hands was not bound to be goodorhonorable. “Better still, how, given my location? You could not have carried me back here alone, nor put me in a chamber that is better than any Scotsman would feel I deserve.”
“On that you are quite right,” came a man’s voice, before the last person I expected to see entered the room.
“I know you,” I exclaimed. “You’re the merchant on the shore that night.” I took in his fine clothing and the blue and green plaid wrapped over his shoulder. “Yet you are no merchant, are you?”
“Nay,” the voice I had heard before growled, and another man entered behind him. Tall and formidable, with dark hair and the same plaid wrapped over his broad shoulder, he shot me a fierce scowl and narrowed his piercing green eyes. “He isnae a merchant but Chieftain Lachlann Mackay, and you are here at his bidding because I would have let you die where you were, heathen.”
“Which makes me a heathen, too,” Astrid reminded softly, yet her gaze was anything but gentle when she narrowed her eyes at him. “And you would do well to remember that, Declan.”
“And you would do well to remember—”
“Enough, you two,” Lachlann grumbled, shooting his son a disgruntled look before lowering into a chair by the fire. His skin was pale and drawn, speaking to a slow recovery from nearly drowning. He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words, then spoke to me. “’Twas verra risky bringing you here after I heard Oksana had found you, but I owed you a debt for saving my life, Soren Dahl, and Astrid pleaded for your life, so here you are.”
“Many thanks,” I replied, loathing how vulnerable I was in this bed. Hell, I couldn’t even sit up properly and defend myself if these men decided to slaughter me here and now. Or worse yet, drag me to their king, where I would surely be forced to suffer for days to rally their armies’ spirits if nothing else.
“What now?” I grunted. What else could I say? My days were undoubtedly numbered, and I would know my fate.
“Now we see you healed,” Lachlann said.
Declan stood in front of a window with his arms crossed over his broad chest and glared at me, making clear what he thought my fate should be.
“And then?” I prompted. Pain throbbed in my gut where I’d been stabbed, causing my vision to blur, but I refused to wince and show weakness in front of these two. “What after that, now that you have stolen an admirable death from me?”
“Och, you have some nerve after—”
“Nay,” Lachlann cut back, scowling at his son before his attention returned to me. “Now we will wait to hear more talk of what happened at the shore. Right now, ’tis being hailed as the Battle of Largs, as our countrymen heroically drove yours from our land once and for all.”
“So our men fled?” I asked.Prayed.
“Aye, like the bloody cowards they are,” Declan ground out, earning another sharp look from his father.
“Aye, many of your people fled, Soren.” Lachlann eyed me curiously. “Lives were lost on both sides, but ’tis said not as many on our side as there might have been given the actions of one berserker Viking warrior as they’re calling you.”
“Then ’twould be my Viking ancestors working through me, because as you well know, they’re of the past now,” I said, unsure what he referred to, assuming this was some odd interrogation on behalf of King Alexander. “So explain yourself in terms I might understand, for ’twill soon be known I slayed many of yours to save my own.”
“Actually,” Lachlann divulged, “I just received more word of the battle, and ’tis claimed you took down dozens single-handedly but didn’t kill one.” He shook his head slowly, clearly trying to make sense of it. “Your comrades did, but you left a trail of wounded rather than slain. They might not be able to fight for some time, but they now live.” A frown settled on his face. “’Tis said King Alexander is offering a reward for this merciful berserker, as ’twas reported by many he was cut down in the battle, yet there is no sign of his body.”
